How Much Does Your Love Cost?
by sabbe
Summary: Now she's here, in a fancy tearoom with his mother discussing his future engagement to Miss Astoria Greengrass. She's inwardly dying to tell Harry and Ron because their heads would surely roll, but she can't thanks to client confidentiality.
1. Chapter 1

Essentially, _this is a unbeta'd cliche fanfic story. You've have been warned. Rated T for some explicit language and sexual references. How Much Does Your Love Cost? Is a song by Thelma Plum but this fic has nothing in common with it, but it's pretty stellar song tbh._

Disclaimer: All characters and anything related to Harry Potter in here belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc.

* * *

Draco Malfoy takes too much pride in being an asshole.

That however is only partially the reason why Hermione is having tea with his mother.

Mrs. Malfoy promptly orders Earl Grey.

"I'm famished as well," she states.

Within seconds, a server arrives with a tray of scones, sandwiches, and petit fours. Hermione's mouth starts salivating at the sight of food. She waits impatiently for the server to pour their tea. The fine china and crystal together probably costs more than her monthly living expenses. Finally, the older woman takes a delicate sip from her cup. The brunette devours a cucumber sandwich and two scones with a heavy dollop of lemon curd. Narcissa looks at her critically. Hermione can tell she's meticulously cataloging all of her faults.

1\. Lackluster hair

2\. Bright albeit too outspoken

3\. Apparent lack of good breeding

...and the list goes on.

"You are well acquainted with my son, Miss Granger?"

She snaps out of her reverie.

"Um," she replies. "Yes."

Narcissa raises a single perfect blonde brow.

 _ **Draco Malfoy**_

 _ **Age: 24**_

 _ **CEO of MALFOY INC.**_

 _ **Former Slytherin and school bully extraodinaire**_

"May I speak frankly, Miss Granger?"

This time she doesn't wait for her to respond.

"I'd like to request your business services in order to match my son with Astoria Greengrass."

She nearly spits out her tea. "Merlin's beard! What makes you think he'll agree to that?"

"He spoke of you often in his letters. Granted, they were not exactly flattering descriptions but clearly you got through to him somehow."

 _Somehow_ she refrains from expressing her outright disbelief.

"Funny, I always had the impression that Mal—I mean your son—was more vocal about his opinions of Harry."

Mrs. Malfoy sniffs with an almost disdainful look. Hermione's knows that look. It's the kind of expression that rich brat wore during her earlier school years.

"Yes, well that was before," she says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

What she means is that was before Voldemort or rather Tom Riddle's final downfall. Before Hermione returned to Hogwarts for her final year along with a handful of others including Draco Malfoy. They were not Head Boy and Head Girl since those positions were reserved for seventh years, instead they were recruited to become what Hermione had deemed as 'Glorified Resident Advisers'. Their first few weeks were tense with understandably underlying hostility on her end. She had been tortured in _his_ Manor by _his_ psychotic aunt. She'd always have the scar on her throat as a reminder.

It was hard to not feel resentful. She was a Gryffindor, but by no means a saint.

Then one Sunday as she took an early morning stroll not too far from the Black Lake, she spotted him standing by the lake shore with his face towards the sunrise. She could see from a distance how pathetic and lonely and small he really was in the scope of all the shit they'd been through. Hermione knew she had to come to terms with the fact that Malfoy had no control over what Voldemort did in his childhood home or the chaos Bellatrix unleashed on her victims. For the rest of school year, they held a tenuous truce.

Now she's here, in a fancy tearoom with his mother discussing his future engagement to Miss Astoria Greengrass. She's inwardly dying to tell Harry and Ron because their heads would surely roll, but she can't thanks to client confidentiality.

"I'm willing to pay at least twice the standard fee," Narcissa insists.

Well of course she can pay twice her standard matchmaking fee. And of course Narcissa knows if Hermione can pull this off then her company's reputation will skyrocket and bring in more elite clients.

 _It's just business nothing personal._

Hermione summons a nondescript black notebook and a charmed pen.

"I'll see what I can do."


	2. Chapter 2

This remains unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: All characters and anything related to Harry Potter in here belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc.

* * *

The first thing she does is train her mind to refer to him as Draco instead of Malfoy.

 _Baby steps, Hermione._

Details are everything. If she wants him to be agreeable then she has to do everything within her power to come off as professional and non-threatening as possible. However she doubts he's forgotten the time she punched him in third year. She knows there is a slim to none chance of things going the easy way, but that's what contingency plans are for right?

 _Oh who am I kidding? Just admit it. I'm fucked._

She owls him under the guise of a social call. A little unethical perhaps but a formal written request for matchmaking would garner no response except for maybe a hexed letter. She arranges a day and time. He picks out a venue for their meeting. Somewhere discreet because let's be honest neither of them want to be caught together by Rita Skeeter wannabes.

Her plan is set in motion and she can only wait until she witnesses the train wreck of her career.

Parvati has taken to managing the other clients until Hermione can reach an agreement with Draco. Parvati might be an actual saint. She definitely deserves a raise and more paid time off.

Harlowe's Tavern has a less than savory reputation, but not as terrible as the Hogs Head's used to be. Truthfully, Hermione's surprised he didn't choose the swankiest French restaurant in Wizarding London. Then again, she's a Muggle-born witch with a penchant for taking down evil and he's an ex-bully who was forced into joining a cult. In a weird way, they cancel each other out but their blood status and which side they were on during the war still mean something to Wizarding society, even if Voldemort is gone for good. Chances are neither of them would receive a very warm welcome in many establishments.

"So Granger," Draco drawls. "Tell me why we're really here."

How very Slytherin like of him to always suspect an ulterior motive. The fact that he's correct in this instance is irrelevant to her.

Hermione sends him a look. It's a look that used to scare Harry and Ron shitless.

"Can't two old school chums share a drink and reminisce over good times?" As soon as those words leave her mouth, his bland smirk turns feral.

"I can't remember which good times are we supposedly reminiscing again? When I was attacked by a bloody Hippogriff? When the fake Mad Eye Moody transfigured me into a ferret? When the Dark Lord forced me to sneak Death Eaters into Hogwarts and I was tasked to kill Dumbledore? When he stayed in my home and held my own family hostage?" He hisses out.

She can't say she didn't expect that response from him but she can easily retaliate.

"When you called me a Mudblood every opportunity you could get? When you lot pretended to be Dementors to scare Harry? When you made those 'POTTER STINKS' badges? When you taunted Ron with the "Weasley is Our King" song during Quidditch? When I was tortured in your Manor by fucking Bellatrix?"

Their eyes lock on each other. They've reached a stalemate.

A beat passes and she takes a deep breath and eases the tension in her shoulders. She needs to gain control of the conversation.

"It wasn't all bad. We had our moments during eighth year remember?"

He scoffs. "Temporary insanity. Plus you turned out to be less high strung without Potty and Weasel constantly hovering and throwing themselves in danger every five minutes."

She restrains herself from letting a smile slip out.

"How about that truce? Are you still good for it?" She asks.

His grey irises watched her carefully. He holds out his hand for her to shake.

"Only if you tell me why my mother wants you to speak with me so badly."

An uncharacteristic blush graces her cheeks. She's been caught and he knows it, but it's better this way. Subtlety and subterfuge has never really been her forte.

She gives him a firm handshake.

"I'm here to help you find a wife."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All characters and anything related to Harry Potter in here belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc

* * *

The first word that comes out of Draco's mouth is "No." He repeats it over and over again like a two-year old who has just learned how to say the word. And she wishes he would stop because it's giving her a migraine.

"Draco you're going to have to work on your verbal communication skills. Throwing a tantrum won't win you any favors," she says sternly.

"That bossy tone only works on Gryffindorks," he shoots back.

"Two shots of Firewhiskey!" She calls out to the barkeep. When she returns with more alcohol. Draco unceremoniously drinks both shots. She levels him with a glare.

"One of those was mine."

"Too bad. You're not the one being forced into an arranged marriage."

Hermione's certain she's sighed one too many times this past hour.

"As I stated before our matchmaking services are to help you find a suitable partner. Ideally, someone who you can see a future with—"

"Spare me the speech, Granger." He grinds out. "I know my parents and what they expect of me. I'm their only son. I need to be married to a respectable pure-blood woman who will give birth to an heir. It's textbook Malfoy history. It never deviates." His caustic words shouldn't throw her off but they do.

"If you have any legitimate reasons not to court a match, we'll take it into consideration," she says softly. For some twisted reason, she's trying to soften the blow. "And it's Hermione by the way," she adds in a rush.

He squints at her.

"If we're going to be working together, it's probably a good idea to be cordial and use first names," she explains.

 _Cordial, really? The both of us are way past cordial_.

"So who's my first match?" he asks slightly slurring his words. "Hermione."

"Astoria Greengrass."

"Tory?" he snorts. "You mean Daphne's younger sister? Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

Her stomach twists again with an unfamiliar feeling. Is it pity? Because make no mistake, she abhors the idea of spending more time with Draco but can't help but hope he finds happiness or anything really to wipe off that look of defeat on his face.

"Before we set up the first date, I'm going to have to get to know you a little better so we can figure out the best way to prepare you to be emotionally and mentally equipped for a romantic relationship."

Draco raises an eyebrow in question.

"Date coaching," she clarifies. "You can't just go into this blindly."

"I know how to take a woman out on a date, Granger," He sniffs.

"Hermione," She corrects. "Are you aware there's more to dating than taking a girl out to Le Petit Chataeu, bringing her back to your flat to have sex, and then kicking the poor girl out in the morning?"

"You're having me followed?!"

She smiles blandly. "We're quite thorough with our research but no, you're just that predictable."

"Fine," he groans. "We'll do the date coaching but lay off with the judgy eyes."

"I would never judge anyone for having multiple sex partners," she says with a startlingly amount of seriousness. "I just hope all those girls needs were met. If you give me their contact information, it would be great to have feedback and we can make sure that you're also physically equipped—"

"MY EQUIPMENT HAS NEVER BEEN BETTER!"

Funny, she never knew Draco's voice could reach that high of an octave. The few patrons scattered inside the tavern look over curiously at the scene.

"I'll make a note of that," she replies wryly. "The important thing to remember about dating is that it's supposed to be fun." A moment passes. "You do know how to have fun right?"

"Har-har," he says. "This is priceless coming from the resident bookworm and fun-sucker herself."

Hermione unconsciously puts her hands on her hips. "I am _not_ a fun-sucker."

"You see that right there? Textbook fun-sucker move." He taunts.

She immediately takes her hands off her hips and awkwardly crosses her arms over her chest. "This isn't about me."

"So you can dish it out but can't take it?"

"No, you're deflecting and that's a textbook _coward_ move."

Why do they always reach a stalemate?

"Let's just get this the hell over with, Granger," he sighs.

"Hermione." She corrects him again.

Draco tosses back his last shot for the night.

"What-the-fuck-ever."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All characters and anything related to Harry Potter in here belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc.

* * *

It could be worse or so she keeps telling herself.

They go over the guidelines for coaching, recognizing red flags and learning from past mistakes and how to avoid continuing them. By the end of it, his head feels like it's going to implode.

"I will pay you twice as much as whatever my mother is paying if you pretend you haven't seen me while I skip off to Ibiza far away from everyone I've ever known," he says.

"Is bribery a hereditary trait that runs in your family?" Hermione brushes him off. "Even if I wanted to take you up on that offer there's no way I could do it. You signed a legally binding agreement with your parents that by the age of twenty-five you would be married."

"I was eighteen when I signed it!" He exclaimed. "I thought I had plenty of time to do whatever hell I wanted. How was I supposed to know father would die so soon and I'd have to pick up the pieces?"

An awkward silence follows after his personal admission.

Hermione chooses to ignore it for both their sakes. "It'll have to be a short engagement. You have about ten months and with the amount of publicity and preparation for the wedding your mother wants, well, it's going to be a tight deadline."

"I know we're not friends but be honest with me. Do you really think Tory is a good match?"

He's looking at her beseechingly and it always boggles her mind to witness an expression on his face that's void of smirks or snarls. She chooses her next words very carefully.

"From what your mother has told me along with the information our consulting resources have provided, Astoria is the best candidate to be your future wife."

"That's not what I asked. I want to know what do _you_ think?"

He takes a step closer and her cheeks flush at his sudden nearness.

Draco smells like whiskey, clover, and possibly some sort of pretentious cologne.

"I think you've had too much to drink and you've forgotten the importance of personal space." She narrows her eyes and pushes him back with a firm but gentle touch. "Let's finish this another time."

Hermione gathers her materials before walking off to an Apparition point. He's been dismissed that much is clear. He watches her silhouette from a distance and he isn't remotely bothered because it's always been like this between them. She always has to get the last word in. She's always the one to walk away.

 _flashback_ _\- eighth year_

 _They find a spot hidden behind Greenhouse one. It's not unusual for students to see Draco and Hermione alone given that they work together, but neither want unwarranted gossip._

 _"So how are you holding up?" Hermione asks._

 _The trial for Lucius Malfoy began less than a week ago. His mother had be acquitted thanks to Potter's testimony of how she had lied to the Lord Voldemort and saved his life. Everyone knew Lucius Malfoy would not receive the same outcome._

 _He thinks his life is rather tragic. All he wants to do is sulk, but Goody-two shoes Granger won't let him alone. He wants to tell her how pathetic he feels._

 _Instead Draco says, "I really could use a drink."_

 _Hermione cautiously looks around their surroundings before pulling out two butterbeers from her bag. She holds one out to him._

 _He tries to disguise his surprise with a scoff. "I'd prefer something stronger but I suppose this will have to do."_

 _He grabs the bottle by the neck and their fingers brush against each other. She nearly drops it because his touch is like a jolt of energy that sneaks its way up her arm. Reluctant eye contact is made and then the moment is over._

 _Hermione tucks away the other butterbeer so it's out of sight. She hitches her bag over her shoulder and adopts that know-it-all voice she knows will grate his nerves._

 _"Don't expect me to be so accommodating next time. A simple 'thank you' would suffice."_

 _She throws in a hair-flip just for good measure and stalks off._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: A special thanks to those who have reviewed this story! This fic remains unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: All characters and anything related to Harry Potter in here belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, etc.

* * *

Hermione likes to think she's got her shit together. She has a real go-getter attitude, which is why she's usually the first person who arrives at their office and the last person to leave at the end of the day. Parvati Patil jokingly refers to herself as Hermione's second-in-command, but in reality they're business partners. During their earlier years at Hogwarts, they were dormmates but never friends. After Lavender died, Parvati became closed off. The remaining eighth years did what they could to support each other. Looking back, Hermione wouldn't have it any other way because Parvati's resourceful and even if they don't see eye-to-eye on everything, they work well together.

At 8 AM, Hermione shows up to work and discretely takes her wand out to unlock their building. She see's a light on in the far back which means someone is already there.

Suprisingly, she finds Parvati who's fallen asleep at her desk over a hefty stack of paperwork. Hermione nudges the Indian witch gently to wake her up.

"Oh Hermione!" she grumbles. "I'm so sorry. I stayed here last night. I meant to finish last of the background check on Miss Greengrass."

"It's alright. We really do have our work cut out for us because Draco wants to hire Zabini to help him write up a prenuptial agreement too. You should go home and get some rest. I'll divvy up the load with Melody for today."

Parvati stands up straight. "Blaise Zabini?"

Hermione shrugs. "Zabini's a barrister now. He's quite well-respected in his profession."

Parvati's beautiful face scrunches into a distasteful expression. "Wow. I really never thought I'd ever witness that pretty boy do anything worthwhile in his life."

Hermione hums thoughtfully, choosing not to make a comment. She knows Parvati has a rocky history with the wizard, which is strange because she can get along with Draco these days. Parvati and Padma had grown up in the same social circle as Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy before attending Hogwarts. It's possible whatever happened between Zabini has to do with their upbringing. As far back as she can remember, Parvati soundly agreed with Ginny's opinion in sixth year that he was an arrogant and vain Git.

"Don't worry I won't say that to his face," she says cheekily. After filing the paperwork in the correct order, she grabs her bag and practically sprints out the door.

Hermione can't help but show a tiny smile of amusement. She already knows it's going to be one hell of a day.

###

Astoria Greengrass is not the kind of person Hermione would voluntarily spend her time with to be completely honest. Objectively speaking, she's a lovely young woman. She's tolerant and kind. From a family whose part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, she doesn't speak to Muggle-borns as if they're below her or express hatred toward Muggles. It's a rare thing (excluding the Weasley clan of course). She chalks it up to the fact that Astoria is younger than Hermione and her peers. It a makes sense that she went through a slightly less violent and frightening hell than they had during the war.

"Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Ms. Granger," Astoria says politely. "I'm afraid Daphne couldn't make it today."

Currently, they're sitting inside a posh Cafe on the edge of Wizarding London.

Hermione casts a quick _Muffliato_ for the sake of privacy. Astoria nods in appreciation.

"Call me, Hermione," she replies out of habit. "It's no trouble at all. I think having a third-party will help make this process much smoother."

"How is he taking the news?" Astoria asks curiously.

"I think he's taking it a lot better than we thought he would be." Considering Draco could have arranged an International Apparition point for Ibiza by now she's _not_ lying.

Astoria looks immensely relieved. "Thank Merlin," she says. "To be frank, I was afraid he was going to do something rash like skip the country."

 _Huh, it seems she knows him well enough. Maybe I'm worrying over nothing. Maybe the guilt and pity I feel is completely misplaced. A girl can dream, right?_

Hermione bites her lip. An annoying habit she picked up after she stopped chewing her quills in school when she fretted over exam revisions.

"Let's complete this dating questionnaire shall we? Your background check is cleared and we'll want to make sure this gets done as soon as possible."

The smile she sends Astoria's way has been perfected over the years; Hermione almost believes she means it.


End file.
